This is really a correction of my first blog on Jane Austen’s letter to her niece burlesquing a contemporary sentimental novel, dated 29-31 October 1812. I reprinted a copy of the letter in my previous blog, discussed the two illustrator-artists, where I described Jane Austen’s remaining correspondence, what people have tried to use it for (as a general statement of Austen’s fiction), my argument that this is fully possible since the letters are so narrowly directed to a real niece whose feelings she does not want to hurt, though we can ferret some principles she ceaselessly repeats as hers when she does discuss fiction: literal verisimilitude, sticking to probability, mockery of too much feeling as probably hypocritical.

I also will let stand my comments on the two illustrators and character sketch of Anna, brief account of her life, and later fiction, and a brief account on an important “third” niece (beyond Fanny Austen Knight): Catherine Austen Hubback. Where I went wrong was in the specific novel: the novel Anna and Jane had been reading together was Lady Maclairn, or The Victim of Villany (published 1806). LeFaye’s fourth edition cites this novel, about which LeFaye wrote a brief notes & query article and Isobel Grundy a longer article about a group of novels dramatizing various attitudes towards slavery; Rachel Hunter of Norwich’s (1754-1813) novel is Grundy’s central focus.

Isobel Grundy, “Rachel Hunter & the Victim of Slavery,” Women’s Writing, 1:1 (1994):25-34 (available on line in a number of databases sold to universities)

The rest of this blog is on how Rachel Hunter’s novels is presented so differently by LeFaye and Grundy. Neither LeFaye or Austen ever mention slavery; Grundy (probably rightly) thinks it an important issue in the novel.

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A recent facsimile reprint of Hunter’s fictionalized didactic book

Grundy’s article is not about Austen’s burlesque letter (though Grundy has surely read it), LeFaye’s article is. I was startled to read Grundy’s account. Nowhere in Austen’s letter is there the least reference to slavery. Grundy’s desciption of Rachel Hunter’s book makes it appear that this novel is centrally about slavery.

I do not think that Grundy is distorting because it is so rare with her, but I cannot resist the analogy with MP which in some accounts would seem to be centrally about slavery, when it’s not. MP includes slavery in its perspective; slavery is an analogous phenomenon to the amoral unjust structuring of society we have all to endure and struggle against. It may be that Hunter’s book is more like Smith’s Tales of a Solitary Wanderer, one of which takes place in Jamaica, where slavery does become a central issue, but Smith’s other novels are explicitly about and defend the principles and early phases of the French revolution. Austen never mentions the French revolution unless we are to say a reference to the peace of Amiens (not named) to account for events in Persuasion, or the existence of more and active militias in P&P count.

LeFaye seems unaware Hunter’s novel is about slavery, but I was a little surprised to see she thinks that Austen and her niece read it without an awareness its topics (also?) include “seduction, bastardy, perjury, elopement, secret marriages lunacy, and suicide as everyday occurrences.” She says Anna would have been shocked had she read it in a later atmosphere; surely one does not have to live 20 years later to notice these things — which like slavery are probably there. Curious this. It implies a really shallow mind which represses anything unconventional.

LeFaye appears to share what she takes to be Austen’s attitude towards the book; that it’s simply absurd: “Austen’s family’s comments are fully justified.” (Such a comfort to read an author whose attitudes reinforce your own.)

I can’t tell from either essay whether the novel was epistolary; if so, that would explain Anna’s comment the repetition of stories about people now dead 3 times before the central story began. Each repetition would give us another characters’ perspective; also the delayed central story is common to a novel which brings forth transgressive or tabooed matter (think of Austen’s own Sense and Sensibility and the told stories of Eliza Brandon and Eliza Williams).

LeFaye is correct in her identification. Austen is making fun of Hunter’s characters in Hunter’s novels; something about them is just ridiculous, and it may be this is part of her finding (probably rightly) the sweet (to her false) sentimentality of the book irritating:

Miss Jane Austen’s tears have flowed over each sweet sketch in such a way as would do Mrs Hunter’s heart good to see; if Mrs Hunter could understand all Miss Jane Austen’s interest in the subject she would certainly have the kindness to publish at least 4 vols more about the Flint family, & especially would give many fresh particulars on that part of it which Mr, H. has hitherto handled too briefly; viz, the history of Mary Flint’s marriage with Howard.

The truth is Grundy’s subject and conclusions are of far greater general applicability than Austen’s burlesque. Grundy argues that Hunter’s novel ends up supporting slavery, and that it’s typical of many supposed critiques of slavery at the time which flatter the writer and reader by saying how we abhor slavery but just now is not the right time to do anything about it, so all we can hope to have are mild ameliorations.

What galls a reader like me — and Grundy points to — is how the slaves are made to feel for their masters (who are corrupted by this practice, conflicted). It reminds me of the end of Gaskell’s Mary Barton where John Barton grovels before the owner of the factory because he killed Carson’s son when it was Carson and his son’s policies which starved Barton’s son to death, Carson’s son who dreamed up the scheme to prevent all union men from ever working again and drove Barton to a bitter regretted revenge which destroyed him.

Grundy does not insinuate that Austen in her letter has an “interest in the subject,” the subject of slavery and finds wholly inadequate way Hunter treats it. This is to make Austen into someone born in the mid-20th century. Nor does she explain why Austen and LeFaye never mention it. Grundy’s account does not bring up Mary Flint’s marriage to Howard; that’s what Austen says interests her. It sounds to me like Austen is interested in this romance or marriage and its circumstances– that she is connecting it to something in her life and possibly Anna’s.

My comments on the jokes about threadpaper, the two illustrators, and the absurdity of the Car of Frankenstein (perhaps prophetic title, showing Austen knows of the Germanic sources of gothic), remain the same. Austen ends on a hope that Mrs Hunter will be better provided. She herself often was at a loss for transportation as she felt she had to wait for her brothers to ferry her places (to maintain her class status).

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The reader will find commentary by Diana Birchalls, Elissa Schiff (she mentions another novel by Rachel Hunter, The Unexpected Legacy, and Diane Reynolds online in the Austen-l archives (open to the public):

[…] Although I wrote about Austen’s 16 letters to Anna last year and individually, I thought I’d write again and provide an over-view since on Austen-l and Janeites we are now up to letters 103 (mid-July, 1814, Chawton to Steventon) and 104 (10-18 August 1814, Chawton to Steventon) in our journey through all Austen’s letters. These are the 2nd and 3rd of 16, the first is letter 76 (29-31, October 1812, a burlesque of novel; see also Isobel Grundy’s essay […]